


Before I Reached the Bottom

by Fire_Bear



Series: Hang Cool Teddy Bear [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: And then it wasn't, Angst?, Humor, It was suppose to be serious, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Alfred are on holiday at the beach and they have a discussion and silliness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before I Reached the Bottom

**Author's Note:**

> I swear, this was meant to be serious and sweet. 
> 
> Instead you get this. 
> 
> It's based on a line which doesn't exist in For Crying Out Loud. (I was vaguely listening to it and heard 'before I reached the bottom of the bottle'. There is no 'bottle'.)
> 
> They do touch on alcoholism, in case you'd like to be warned. (And I don't mean to belittle it in any way. I'm sorry if it seems like it.)

It was hot.

Arthur supposed that was normal for California in the summer, though. With the sun high in the sky, his view was obscured by an ever-present haze. Luckily, he would be protected from the worst of it: the parasol would see to that. His floral fan was currently a blur in a futile attempt to cool him down as he watched the energetic children dashing about and the surfers on the waves.

“You really should take off your shirt, Artie,” said Alfred from beside him. His deckchair had been pushed into the sun where he lounged, his blond hair shining with the cowlick pointing at the sky. A pair of black sunglasses were shielding his eyes. He had taken his own advice and was only wearing a pair of shorts, his chest open for the sun to burn: he hadn't lathered on the sun cream like Arthur had. Of course, Arthur had the sneaking suspicion that he would tan instead of become as red as a lobster.

“No, thank you. I don't want to get burned.” He gave Alfred's chest a pointed glance.

“Artie, you're in the shade.”

“Mm. It's too hot to move.”

At that, Alfred sat up properly, a mischievous grin on his face. Arthur could tell what he was about to say wasn't going to be to his liking. “Well, if you need help...”

“Behave yourself!” cried Arthur, eyeing a group of burly men passing by. “Maybe I don't want to show off my beer belly.”

That was the wrong statement to make: Alfred launched himself from his chair and knelt beside Arthur. Ripping the sunglasses from his face, he made sure Arthur felt the full brunt of his frown. “What are you talking about?” he demanded, grabbing Arthur's wrist and stilling his fan. There, a leather band rested. A coin was embedded in it: his one year sober proclamation. “What about this? You're not-”

“Calm down, Al, for goodness' sake!” said Arthur, sitting up properly and wrenching his arm from Alfred's grip. “I haven't been drinking.”

Alfred's frown only deepened. “Then why'd you say you have a-?”

“Come off it, Al.” Arthur sighed. “I was only saying that because I'm still rather self-conscious. I didn't think I'd have to spell that out for you.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Alfred. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist. “I just worry a little. Y'know, since we're on holiday and all.”

“Why would that make me start drinking again?”

His response was a shrug. “Dunno,” he added after a moment of silence.

Sighing, Arthur pulled Alfred up from his waist so he could look him in the eye. Once green met blue, he spoke. “I am _never_ going to touch alcohol again. Not after everything I've done to reach this stage. Not after you saved me.”

With a fond smile, Alfred took hold of one of Arthur's hands, rubbing his thumb along the knuckles. “I was a regular, ol' hero, right?”

“Yes, you were,” said Arthur, seriously. “I can't thank you enough.”

“Well, you could do one thing for me.”

“What's that?” asked Arthur, tilting his head with a curious look. Alfred usually told him that it had been his duty to save him and he needed no reward. What had changed?

“Take off that shirt!” Alfred suddenly yelled, surging to his feet and gripping the hem of Arthur's white t-shirt. Arthur cried out and fell backwards, at an angle, almost bringing Alfred on top of him. Thankfully, Alfred stopped himself, his hands on either side of Arthur's body. Before Arthur could even blush, his boyfriend was up and attempting to take off his shirt again, despite Arthur's protests.

And, even though he was yelling and hitting Alfred with his closed fan, both of them knew how much they loved each other. Both of them knew how close they had been to losing the other, how close Arthur had been to drinking himself to death. Arthur was utterly grateful to Alfred to helping him see the world in a brighter way and he knew Alfred was relieved that Arthur had managed to come back from the brink.

Of course, Arthur had done that just for him and he didn't regret it one bit.

“Hey, hey!” said Alfred, giving up on his attempts to remove the shirt. “If I promise to behave, can we go to McDonald's?”

Arthur's brow furrowed. “I didn't think you _could_ behave, dearest.”

“I can too!” And, with that, Alfred sat up. He held out a hand, a large grin on his face which made Arthur suspicious. Narrowing his eyes, he took the proffered hand anyway and was pulled back into a sitting position. “See?” Alfred even got up from the deckchair so it wouldn't collapse which had been Arthur's next worry. “Can we go to McDonald's, then?”

“Oh, all right,” sighed Arthur, though he was smiling rather exasperatedly.

“Really? You mean it? No take backs, right?”

“No 'take backs',” Arthur agreed. “We'll pop by the-”

He was interrupted when Alfred leaned over, grabbed the hem of Arthur's shirt and yanked it upwards with such force that Arthur's arms rose a little, utterly involuntarily. Because of that, it was rather easier for Alfred to tug the shirt off, leaving Arthur in just a pair of khaki shorts. Gaping at the American, Arthur could only watch as he ran off, cackling loudly as he headed towards the sea.

“Hey!” shouted Arthur, once he'd regained his senses. “You sly bastard! Get back here with that!”

Instead, Alfred scrunched the material into a ball and flung it at the waves. It landed on the water quite a ways off shore and spread out, bobbing like some sort of sea creature coming up for air. Then he rushed back to Arthur who had watched the whole display in disbelief. “Now we gotta go to McDonald's even if you're mad,” sang Alfred as he neared his boyfriend, doing a funny little dance in the sand.

With another sigh, Arthur collapsed back onto his deckchair. “I think I need a drink. Of tea,” he added, for clarification.

“Tea? Here?” asked Alfred, flopping down to the ground beside Arthur so he could lean his head on Arthur's bare stomach. “You _do_ realise it's, like, ninety degrees out here? It's too hot for tea.”

“It's never too hot for tea," Arthur declared.


End file.
